Joe Dante has spent his career making movies for people who love movies, and Matinee might be his purest expression of that affection—a cinematic valentine to the era when theaters had ushers, popcorn cost a nickel, and filmmakers would wire seats with electric buzzers just to make you scream.
Set in Key West, Florida, during the Cuban Missile Crisis, this 1993 gem captures a moment when nuclear annihilation felt imminent and the only sensible response was to release a horror movie about a man who turns into a giant ant.
John Goodman stars as Lawrence Woolsey, a schlockmeister producer clearly modeled on William Castle, the real-life gimmick genius who brought the world Percepto (electric shocks), Emergo (a skeleton flying over the audience), and Illusion-O (special glasses for seeing ghosts). Woolsey arrives in town with his latest masterpiece, Mant, featuring the tagline “Half Man, Half Ant, All Terror!” and a promotional strategy that involves rigging theater seats to administer shocks during key scares.
As he explains to his leading lady and reluctant accomplice Ruth Corday, played with sarcastic patience by Cathy Moriarty, there’s no better time to open a horror movie than when the entire country is poised on a nuclear knife edge.
The genius of Matinee lies in its recognition that escapism isn’t denial—it’s survival. While the adults of Key West monitor the blockade situation and prepare for potential evacuation, the kids understand that watching someone transform into an insect on a movie screen is actually a healthy way to process the anxiety of potentially being vaporized by Soviet missiles.
Dante, who has always directed children with an authenticity that avoids both precociousness and condescension, centers the story on Gene Loomis, played by Simon Fenton. Gene’s father is stationed on one of the naval ships blockading Cuba, making the global crisis deeply personal, yet he finds solace and community in Woolsey’s carnival of shocks.
The film-within-a-film, Mant, gets presented in black-and-white pastiche sequences that perfectly capture the aesthetic of 1950s atomic-frightmares like Them! and The Blob. Dante clearly loves this material—not ironically, but with the genuine appreciation of someone who grew up on these films and recognizes their cultural value. The spoof trailers and gimmick sequences should tickle even viewers who’ve never heard of William Castle, while providing pure nostalgic bliss for those who have.
Goodman gives a performance of such gregarious huckster charm that you understand immediately why Woolsey has survived decades in the exploitation film business. He’s a showman who genuinely believes in the transformative power of communal terror, the way a dark theater full of screaming strangers can make you feel less alone in your fears.
When he schools Gene in the finer points of his craft—how to rig a theater for maximum scare impact, how to read an audience’s mood, how to sell spectacle on a shoestring—you’re watching two generations of movie lovers connect across the counter.
The supporting cast features Dante regulars like Dick Miller and Bob Picardo, plus Kevin McCarthy (star of the original Invasion of the Body Snatchers) in a meta-appearance that blurs the line between the film’s reality and its cinematic influences. John Sayles, who wrote Dante’s Piranha and The Howling, appears as a blacklisted writer posing as a religious fanatic, adding a layer of political commentary about the era’s paranoia without heavy-handedness.
Where Matinee stumbles slightly is in its structure—by focusing so heavily on the kids’ exploits and Gene’s coming-of-age, the film occasionally sidelines Goodman when he’s on screen. Every scene with Woolsey crackles with energy, and you sometimes wish Dante had stayed with the huckster’s perspective rather than retreating to the safer territory of childhood nostalgia.
Still, as a tribute to the power of Saturday afternoon cinema, Matinee succeeds beautifully. It understands that movies don’t just distract us from reality; they give us tools to understand it, metaphors to process our fears, and spaces to share emotional experiences with strangers who become temporary communities. In an age of streaming isolation, Dante’s celebration of theatrical spectacle feels increasingly precious.
A loving tribute to the era when movies were events and showmen were kings.
Experience the magic—stream or purchase Matinee and rediscover why Joe Dante remains the ultimate cinephile’s filmmaker.
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